


Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

by orphan_account



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Comment Fic, Let's Get Gay Married Comment Fest, M/M, Slash, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you give someone who's given you the world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

**Author's Note:**

> [Let's Get Gay Married Commentfic Meme](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html) prompt by theslashbunny: Pinky/Brain, Pinky loves Brain and Brain loves Pinky
> 
> This is incredibly sappy. Brain would not approve.

It is a sad truth that a lab mouse's life isn't a long one. _Mus musculus domesticus_ rarely lives past thirty months of age. Genetically-modified mice, with their intelligence and stamina enhanced may see an increased lifespan, but this increase will rarely be measured in years. Brain knows this, and has put much thought into the problem, concocting chemical enhancers that Bob Dole would give his eyeteeth for, and assuredly, if Brain could leverage those teeth into world domination, he'd have done so by now. Nevertheless, and despite all his plans and cleverness, he and Pinky are nearly seven years old. Pinky, who used to SPROING! around the cage, now sleeps most of the time, curled in a tired ball.

"This is unacceptable," Brain says out loud. Pinky opens one eye, and yawns.

"What's that, Brain?"

Brain pulls himself up to his full height, and as he's discovered often over the past year, this is accompanied by a calliope of small pains in his back and tail. "I said," he pauses for breath, "that this is unacceptable."

"Oh. Well, if you got a receipt, you can return it." Pinky closes the eye again. Shortly afterward, he is asleep again, quiet "Narf"s coming from his mouth as he dreams.

Brain makes a sound of fond disgust. Fate is not something that can merely be stuffed back into the box, stuck with a mailing label, and shipped back to ACME's warehouse. Fate must be fought, denied every opportunity.

"Or exchange it," Pinky says from his sleep. "Something in a nice chartreuse this time. Brings out your eyes."

"Exchange? Pinky, I can't ...."

A plan forms, fully-grown inside the slowing synapses of Brain's mind, recharging them like a lightning strike.

**

Pinky's naps are getting longer. Brain worries but it gives him time to work. He's not used to this much effort. The actions make him feel months younger. Brain calculates and formulates. His oft-imposed deadline of a single night now looms like the spectre of Death. He needs to finish quickly, but he also must be sure. This will only work once, if it works at all.

**

"Pinky." Brain shoves him gently. Pinky doesn't wake up. "Pinky!"

Fear fills him, and horror. No, not now, not with them so close!

An eye cracks open. It is old and very tired. "Brain?"

Brain smiles, tears he won't admit to pricking his own eyes. "That's right, it's Brain."

"I'm very tired, Brain."

"I know, Pinky. Come on, I need to show you something."

"Is it a Christmas tree? Oh, I love Christmas trees." It's July.

"I know you do. Do you remember the Christmas you gave me the world on a chain, Pinky?"

"Narf." Probably a yes. Pinky doesn't remember things well sometimes, not these days.

"I've been thinking," Brain says, coaxing Pinky to his reluctant feet. "You and I have been through so much together. We've had a child together," he says, remembering Roman Numeral One with fondness. "You've always been there by my side, through thick and thin, through plot and scheme. You've been my greatest friend, my dearest confidante."

"The Sonny to your Cher? The Bill to your Hillary?"

Brain doesn't let himself dwell on those comparisons. Instead, as he helps Pinky step out of the cage for the very last time, he says the one thing that matters.

"My world."

Pinky opens his mouth. He's going to say something inane. Then he shuts his mouth and puts his arms around Brain. In the old days, it would have been a flying hug. This is gentle, old bones and sore muscles, and absolutely genuine.

Brain pulls out of the hug regretfully. It's the last time he will ever be hugged by a mouse, and he knows it.

"Here." Brain shows Pinky the test tubes. There are two. The liquid inside is a vicious purple, something like the Kool-Aid Man's pre-employment drug screen sample. Brain makes a face at the mental image but can't get rid of it, even as he helps tip the first one over to Pinky. "Drink this."

"What is it, Brain? Is it medicine?"

Brain lies. "Yes, Pinky. It's medicine." He watches Pinky drink it down obediently. Part of him will regret this. But he can let go of that part.

"Brain, I feel strange."

"I know." Before he can change his mind, Brain takes the second test tube, and drinks it all. It doesn't help that it also tastes like the Kool-Aid Man's pre-employment drug screen sample.

Pain seizes him. He thrashes for Pinky's hand and holds it as the spasms shake them both. Pinky whimpers, and that's heartbreaking, but Brain holds his hand tightly until it suddenly yanks out of his.

And grows.

Within five minutes, the change is complete and irreversible. On a bench where an elderly, handsome lab mouse once sat, Brain sees a tall, skinny human man of about twenty-five, sandy haired, with an expression of pure surprise and innocence on his vaguely familiar face. Brain looks for the mirror he painstakingly dragged over for this purpose, and sees a somewhat shorter young human man with a dark complexion, darker hair, and a scowl that is turning to a pleased smile as he sees himself. They are both completely naked. As mice, this wasn't a problem. As humans, they'll have to make do with spare lab coats when they finally dress.

"Brain, what happened?" Pinky's voice is deeper now, coming from a human-sized chest cavity and larynx.

"Memememememe," Brain sings to clear his throat. "Pinky, we could no longer survive as mice. As humans, we will have decades."

"But Brain," Pinky says. Even as Brain watches in delight, he can see Pinky's own mind waking up again, no longer dulled by age. "Didn't you say if you ever made yourself human, you'd lose your men-tal-a-cue-ity?"

Brain nods. "Indeed, my full mental capacity is sadly now limited to that of a super-intelligent human."

"But Brain ...."

"You are my world," Brain says again, in case Pinky forgot. "What could I possibly give you to equal as much as you've given me? I pondered and pondered, and I couldn't think of anything better than a future." Pinky hugs him again. This hug lasts a long, long time.

"Where do we go?" Pinky asks eventually. "We can't live in the cage anymore. We won't fit."

"We will find a place to live. I promise. But first, we must prepare for tomorrow night."

"Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night?"

Brain's eyes twitch, and he smiles widely. "We're going to New York!"


End file.
